Impossible's Only a Word
by hiddeninthedarknessofdaylight
Summary: "Companion" wasn't quite the right word for it. "Prisoner"? No, that wasn't quite it either. "Third Wheel" was more like it. Next to Donna Noble, Cassidy Jennings wasn't much more than a spare part that happened to find its way into the Doctor's pockets - the slightly-less-than-voluntary tag-along on their adventures. This was really not how she'd hoped this day would go...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello. :) New story, new fandom, same old me. Quick apology for the things I'm almost certain to mess up considering I'm still relatively new to the world of Who, but I'm sure you'll forgive me eventually (if I screw up too badly let me know and I'll do my best to fix it – pinky promise).**

**Just a quick introduction to my character with very little of her background included. I like developing things slowly – adds to realism and tortures readers ;), but in a good way I hope.**

**Disclaimer (applies for all future chapters): anything you recognize, I don't own. I may pull elements from other fandoms and drop them into this story, so I also don't own any of those.**

**Lemme know what you think :) Not only do reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, they also make the story better for you. So do yourself favors and drop me a line.**

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**Chapter One: Not Exactly the Way It Should Have Gone**

Cass was about 85% sure she'd completely lost her mind.

If she were honest, the rest of her day wasn't terribly hard for her to believe. Waking up feeling drugged and groggy in a small, doorless cell was sadly not out of the ordinary. It wasn't the first time – and hopefully not the last – she'd forgotten being captured and imprisoned, now traveling through some stretch of unknown space surrounded by people who probably would kill her as soon as look at her. Luckily those sorts of situations all followed a sort of script – one which she was particularly adept at exploiting.

Step one: escape the cage. Nothing really difficult there. She'd gotten out of this one in less than ten minutes, throbbing head and all. The ache behind her left temple probably should have worried her far more than it actually did, but not because of any medical problems it might be hinting at. Only rarely did anyone get away with successfully sneaking up on her.

Step two: identify the vessel. That was even easier, if far more concerning, than step one. The ship was obviously Judoon. If the unimaginative structure of the corridors wasn't enough of a giveaway, the monosyllabic text – which she found far easier to decipher than normal – running across the computer terminals chased away whatever lingering doubts she might have had.

Step three: discern the purpose of the trip. Well, that was a no-brainer. She was a prisoner on a Judoon ship – likely a prisoner _transport_ vessel. Early 52nd century – she was probably headed to Stormcage.

Step four: recover personal belongings. Judoon always kept prisoners' effects in the same place, so that wasn't a problem either. Before the end of a half-hour, she had her pack slung across her back, communicator (currently useless) strapped to her thigh, and cutlass hanging from her hip. Her last business partner had always teased her about her rather archaic choice of weapon, but she'd never cared much for his opinion. There was something awe-inspiring about a pirate with a proper cutlass that not even he had been able to deny when it came down to it. Besides, the man had lost his right to criticize when he'd stolen her ship and disappeared into the expanse of time, leaving her stranded and scrambling to survive in a century far more advanced than her own. Luckily, a life of crime required more determination and wit than actual know-how in this time period, so she hadn't floundered for long, current situation aside.

Step five: escape. Not so easy. Still, it hadn't been avoidance or the probable difficulty of stealing an escape pod or small ship that had her skulking around in the shadows, trying to shake the growing feeling that none of this quite added up. There were no troops on patrol around the ship – nor had there been a guard near her cell. Judoon were suckers for military procedure and formality, so there was no way they'd let that slide under normal circumstances. On top of that, if they were planning on taking her to Stormcage, or even to the Shadow Proclamation itself, for that matter, they were headed in the complete wrong direction.

Looking back now on her decision to stick around and do some snooping, she recognized she should have let it go and made her run while she'd had the chance. She decided she really hadn't needed to find the missing Judoon – who, as it turned out, weren't actually Judoon at all – or sprint back down various hallways and side corridors in an attempt at losing her small tail of fifteen or so well-armed guards, all of whom knew the ship far better than she did. Definitely, she hadn't needed to trap herself in a small medical bay, her pursuers detained at the whim of a now-busted key pad to the left of the door. And really – perhaps most of all – she hadn't needed to come nose-to-wood with a tall blue box, which she was absolutely sure hadn't been there before.

Zsince continuing to run was no longer a viablee option, Cass did what any semi-reasonable person questioning their mental stability would do when confronted with a large, proudly lit object that really shouldn't be anywhere near where it was. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the thing.

She was _more_ than sure it hadn't been there before. The express purpose in choosing this particular room out of the several she'd passed in the last few minutes was that it had another door, hopefully to be used for her timely escape. Of course, that door was now very inconveniently located _behind_ the impossible blue box.

After a moment's reflection, she decided that the universe must really hate her – not surprising, all things considered. Still, it could have picked a better time.

_Whump._

The not-Judoon pounded on the door at the far end of the room, trying to get it open. Frankly, time was on their side. Cass glanced over the room frantically looking for anything useful. Admittedly, a pistol might have been a better choice of weapon than a cutlass – although she might get points for intimidation or confusion factor if it really came down to the wire, which it almost certainly would. Regrets were about as useful as anything in the rest of the room, however. 51St century medicine had all but eliminated the need for sharp and pointy objects onboard starships. The med bay was little more than a room with several person-sized transparent tubes that could be filled with nanogenes at the push of a button. It wasn't quite as elegant as the free-floating nanogenes in her own ship, but the Shadow Proclamation had apparently outlawed that version of the technology last century due to a series of problems with the little buggers being reprogrammed and weaponized. Had Cass had enough time – and had she known what exactly the not-Judoon were – she might have attempted to use the medical technology to a similar less-than-healthy effect. As it was, she was just about entirely out of options.

_Whump. Whump._

It wasn't a terrible way to go, she decided as she backed away from the door and towards to blue thing. She would have preferred a more dramatic or useful exit, but it was better than getting mugged in a back alley, she supposed.

_Whump. Whump. _

She was now leaning against the blue box in an admittedly-futile attempt to get as far away from the door as possible. Nowhere to hide, no way to fight – at least not effectively. A cutlass wasn't going to be much use against the large, high-powered rifles in the hands of the rhino-people. Maybe there was someone waiting at the end of the line giving orders for her to be kept alive for some nefarious purpose. After all, they seemed to have gone through a lot of effort to get her all the way out here in one piece.

_Whump._

On second thought, Cass doubted she was that lucky.

_Whump. _

She could try and talk her way out of being atomized, but she really doubted that reason would have much of an impact on the not-Judoon.

_Whump. Whump. Bang._

Great. It sounded like the door was breaking. Wonderful timing.

_Bang_.

As she braced herself for the not-Judoons' impending arrival to the scene, squeezing her eyes shut in dreaded anticipation and gripping the hilt of her sword in a white-knuckled fist, the wall behind her suddenly gave way, leaving her to fall gracelessly to the floor, which also shouldn't have quite been where it was.

A small "oh" was all that escaped her lips as her brain tried to reconcile what her eyes were telling her. A big ship within a small blue box onboard another ship that looked Judoon but wasn't. Beyond the white door her feet were currently sticking out of was a large dome-like room, shining with the most beautiful bronze light she'd ever seen. Organic-looking branch like structures rose from the metal grated floor into the ceiling, perfectly staging what looked to be some sort of command console in the dead center of the room. Still, all that wasn't nearly as surprising as the two people staring down at her, faces a mix of mild shock and astounding curiosity.

Make that 95% sure she had completely lost her mind.

The woman peered out the door after a moment, frowning at the medical bay in disappointment.

"I thought you said 'beach day,'" she complained drily at her male companion, who was still hovering over Cass with an almost frightening inquisitiveness. "This is _not_ a beach."

The man hardly spared a glance at the room beyond his door before returning his intense dark gaze to the young woman who was trespassing – albeit entirely unintentionally – on his ship. "It's not perfect, Donna. You know that."

"Yeah, but where _are_ we then?" she shot back, entirely unphased. "_When_ are we?"

_Perfect_, came Cass's internal commentary, accompanied by a small frown as she continued to look around. _Time travelers. More than that – __**British**__ time travelers. _The woman was indeed dressed for a lazy day by the sea, large floppy hat covering her long auburn hair and a rather archaic style of sandals on her feet. The man, however, looked like he'd have been more at home in an office building – but that wasn't quite right either. Maybe a college campus rather than an office. He just about screamed "professor." Brown pinstripe suit, blue shirt, _fantastic_ hair, and... were those Chuck Taylors not six inches from her nose? Damn, those didn't even exist anymore – not even in the 31st century, which was her usual hunting ground. She'd seen pictures, of course, but never dreamed she'd see a pair in person.

"Early 52nd century, I think. As for where..." he trailed off, finally furrowing his brow in confusion and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Who are _you?_"

She made no move to get to her feet, tearing her eyes away from his priceless shoes and raising an eyebrow up at him from right where she was. "Cass Jennings. And you?"

"I'm the Doctor," he provided, almost offhand. "And that's Donna."

Donna smiled and waved a bit down at her.

"You're British," she stated, though it came out as more of an accusation.

"Well, I am," Donna smirked. "_He's_ not."

"What are you doing here?" The Doctor demanded.

"Which 'here' are you referring to? There seem to be several options at the moment."

"This is a Judoon transport ship."

"Well, _that_ is over there. Not sure exactly what this one is, but it's far more impressive than the other one."

"You're not a Judoon."

"Nope. And you're apparently not British."

"But what are you doing onboard a Judoon transport ship?"

She shrugged. "I'll let you know when I've got a good answer. Better question – what are _you_ doing onboard a Judoon transport ship?" After a moment's thought, she revised the question. "Or, what is the Judoon transport ship doing around your ship?"

"It was _supposed_ to be the beach, mind," Donna put in with a halfhearted glare at her friend. The Doctor, however, was not to be deterred.

"So you're a prisoner."

"I was an hour or so ago," she smirked, finally getting to her feet and dusting herself off, glancing around curiously as she adjusted her customary black vest. "And you're still apparently not British. You've certainly got the accent, though."

_Bang._

"Doctor? What was that?"

"That would be the Judoon," Cass shrugged. "Or, rather, not the Judoon."

"What does that mean?" Donna frowned.

"They look like Judoon, but they're not. I accidentally came across one of them unzipping their forehead a few minutes ago, and I'm pretty sure they don't normally do that. Also," _Bang. "_I'm pretty sure they want to keep their little secret to themselves."

"What are they doing to the door? Wait, hold on. Did you just say 'unzipping their forehead'?"

"I know, right? Can we leave now?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no..." The Doctor looked far too interested for what remained of Cass's peace of mind. She was fairly certain figments of her imagination should be more concerned with the continuation of the source of their existence than these two seemed to be.

_Bang. Bang. _

"The TARDIS took us here on purpose, diverting us from our original course to here. There's got to be a reason."

"Well, you kinda got in the way of my escape attempt. Not helpful, by the way."

He took a closer look at her, brown eyes unnervingly unblinking. "Who _are_ you?"

"Cass Jennings. I thought we'd just been over that. You're 'the Doctor' and that's Donna." She punctuated the last bit with a small smile and wave at the half-confused woman standing a little off to the side.

"Why do you have a cutlass?"

_Bang_.

"Because I like it."

_Bang. _

"Yes, but _why?"_

_Bang._

She'd admit she was starting to get a little on the nervous side as the slams against the door increased in intensity. "Do you have a death wish? Or maybe it's a murder wish."

_Bang. _

"And why do you sound American?"

_Bang. _

The seam between the door and the wall was beginning to smoke a bit, and she estimated they'd probably be flooding into the room within the next shot or two.

"Doctor..." Donna groaned anxiously, also noticing the immediate problem.

"Really, can't I answer these questions _after_ we get out of here?" Cass growled

"_Nope_, I don't think so. We've got plenty of time. _And_ I want to know what's going on."

"For God's sake, you're going to get yourself killed."

_Bang._

"And Donna killed," she continued. The Doctor paid her no mind, simply stuffing his hands into the pockets of his brown pinstripe suit and wandering out the impossible doors and into the med bay.

_Bang._

Cass resignedly followed him, muttering one last "and _me_," before the door came apart in a small explosion. Donna closed the blue doors to the blue box Cass was half sure wasn't actually there just in time to be met with the business ends of six primed incinerators, all held by very angry looking rhinoceroses.

Or was it "rhinoceri?" Cass could never remember. It was funny the things you thought of when you were about to be shot.

None of this seemed to bother the strange man with the impossible blue box. He stood there casually with a large smile on his face, hair ruffled as if someone had just gotten done with running their fingers through it, hands still deep in the pockets of his trousers, and looking for all the world like he owned the place. What was more, he wasn't bluffing. Cass had been around the block enough times to know when someone was putting up a brave front, trying to intimidate the other party into giving up their advantage. But this man seemed to genuinely believe that he could handle a small squad of heavily armed people who'd theoretically managed to steal the skins of at least six of the best trained mercenaries in the universe with nothing more than his friend and some woman he'd just met at his back.

If Cass _had_ lost her mind, she was certainly in good company, because this man was either the cleverest or the most stupidly insane person she'd ever come across.

"Hello," he beamed, that dreadfully curious light back in those dark eyes. "I'm the Doctor."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to ****aorangeinboston****, ****Zerousy****, ****dm1,** **and the anonomys Guest****for the wonderful reviews! What a fantastic way to kick off this story. Hopefully I can live up to all the great feedback. :)**

**While there may periodically be episodes showing up in my chapters, I would like to give y'all as much original material as I can. So, if anyone has any requests or ideas for adventures, I'd be most appreciative. **

**Please review! Your feedback makes my day. :)**

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**Chapter Two: A Not So Ood Start**

As she pushed herself up off the floor, back in the cell she'd only recently escaped from, Cass decided she really wasn't a fan of being unconscious. The steady ache in her temple had escalated into a blaring throb, compliments of the stunning rifle blast she'd received some minutes – or hours – before, just after the not-Judoon had decided not to engage the Doctor in conversation. Her belongings had once again been confiscated – no surprise there. And, if she squinted hard enough past the happy, stabbing lights overhead, she could just make out the somewhat blurry silhouette of one of the not-Judoon standing guard just outside her door.

Cass did her best to suppress a groan at a new soreness in her limbs as she dragged herself to her feet as quietly as she could manage. She shook her head briefly to try and clear it, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. And as she shoved away the last bit of grogginess from her mildly-abused system, she managed to catch wind of two voices she really didn't feel like listening to at the moment.

With a scowl, she pointedly ignored them. Fortunately for her, the not-Judoon wasn't quite so disciplined, turning his attention to the arguing pair and leaving the pirate unsupervised long enough for her to remove the lose bit of paneling she'd pried away earlier. It was almost sad how security in this century focused so much on making prison doors impenetrable that they'd nearly forgotten about the rest of the cells. If the not-Judoon were more like real Judoon, monitoring their prisoners both in person and via the many cameras currently inactive across the ship, this would have been much more challenging. As it was, Cass was in no hurry and had plenty of time to wonder if the art of escape had somehow been tragically lost over the centuries.

There was just enough room in the narrow vent for the petite pirate to squeeze her way through, leaving her to crawl the rest of the way down through the shaft and into the open air of a room just down the corridor from where she'd started. There was a brief moment of indecision as her conscience inevitably got the best of her before she crept back towards the brig, picking up a stout length of steal pipe from a maintenance closet along the way.

Very little had changed by the time Cass returned to her fellow prisoners a few minutes later. The Doctor and Donna, each held within their own cozy little cells, were chatting heatedly at one another, waving their hands in half-angry gestures regardless of the fact that neither of them could see the other through the steel walls.

"Might I remind you," Donna pointed out, "that this was _supposed_ to be a _vacation_. And look where we are!"

"Well, it's not really my fault is it?" The Doctor pouted, sitting somewhat dejectedly on the floor, one arm draped carelessly over his knee. If Cass's brain hadn't been currently trying to break its way out of her skull, she might have taken a moment to really appreciate how long his legs were, but she was spending what little ability she had to focus on keeping the bipedal rhino from having any reason to turn around. "The TARDIS takes us wherever she likes. How was I supposed to know she was being... well... moody..."

"You can't go _anywhere_ without getting involved with something can you? Not only can you not drive. You've got to get in trouble. I don't think you'd be able to handle a proper day off even if you got one!"

"Course I could." The Doctor frowned, then gave a small noncommittal shrug. "Just don't want to. Days off are boring."

"Yeah? And rotting in a cell all night is exciting, is it?"

"Could be." He grinned widely as he caught sight of Cass, springing to his feet and promptly stuffing his hands into his pockets. "There's all sorts of fun stuff to do around here. We've got pirates and spaceships and alien technologies. Mysteries to solve. Adventures to be had. And then we've got our glorious captors right in front of us – the 'not-Judoon.'"

He would have been nose to nose with the rhino-man had the bars of his cell not been in the way. "These beautiful, wonderful, stupid creatures right here. Cass was right, wasn't she? You're not Judoon at all. You might look like them, but you've got it all wrong. You see, you're thick – very thick, actually. Don't take it personally, everyone looks thick when I'm in the room. Judoon are thick, too. See, a Judoon – a proper Judoon – would never leave his post, especially for something as insignificant as Donna being upset about something. But you aren't a soldier – you're too curious. You're an altogether different flavor of thick. 'cause ya know what I've figured out about you?"

There was half a moment's pause as the Doctor waited expectantly for the response that wasn't going to come, his eyes bright with some small kind of triumph even as Donna rolled her eyes in a half-bored expression. Cass took the opportunity to take good aim. Regardless of what species of alien it was, the pirate was already committed to her plan. She only prayed the brain was in the right place.

The man smiled. "You're Raxacoricofallapatorian."

On cue, Cass swung her improvised weapon hard into the base of the creature's skull, finding some strange sense of justice in the knowledge that her now-fallen captor was going to wake up with a hell of a headache.

"Bit long-winded, wasn't it?" She cocked an eyebrow at the Doctor as she traded her pipe for the guard's rifle, immediately changing the intensity setting without a second thought. "Thought you'd never shut up."

"Were you there the whole time?" Donna demanded, hands on her hips and long hair tumbling over her shoulder as she cocked her head expectantly.

"Well, not the _whole_ time," she grinned back, shouldering the rifle. "If you could stand back from the door please."

"You'll have to do better than that. It's deadlocked." The Doctor watched her with a combination of curiosity and smugness.

"Deadlocked?" she repeated.

"Yu_p_," he smirked.

With an _almost_ condescending smile, she pulled the trigger, sending a bolt of lethal energy straight into the wall beside the cells. The bars promptly slid away without any fuss as the main circuit to the room was overloaded. "Not anymore they're not."

The man squinted at her curiously. "Who are you?"

Her conscience satisfied, Cass hardly paid the pair of them any attention as she started up a computer terminal in the corridor, tossing the rifle thoughtlessly aside "Your're a bit slow on the uptake, aren't you. Cass Jennings. Pirate. Currently saving your ass."

She could almost feel Donna's approving smile. "I like her."

"No, you can't keep it." The Doctor slipped on his glasses and peered at the screen from over her shoulder. "Are you - "

"Accessing the security cameras across the ship, yes." She frowned at the section of the screen displaying another squad of not-Judoon – calling them by their proper name was more effort than she was willing to expend – hurrying down the corridor towards their present location. Within a moment, she'd pulled up a map of the ship, already forming an escape route. "Judoon don't usually have prisoners they're worried about escaping – generally they just kill people – so they don't have much security in their computers."

"Wait, go back to the cameras," he demanded.

"There isn't time. We've gotta go."

"Do it."

"Did you _not_ see the armed guards heading this way? I've already been knocked out twice today – I don't think I could handle the headache from the third."

"_Cass Jennings_, pirate, currently being an ass – just do it, please."

She huffed in irritation, not used to taking someone else's orders, but complied in the hopes that he'd noticed something useful.

Donna, by this time, had joined in. "Is that..."

Cass, dread beginning to settle in the pit of her stomach, enlarged the image. It was difficult to see in the low lighting of the room, but huddled together in the small space, clearly surviving in less than substandard conditions, were -

"Ood..." the pirate confirmed quietly, dread giving way to a cold fury. "Ood and children."

Without a word, Cass spun around and marched back into the brig, the Doctor on her heels. "Hold this." She shoved the rifle into his arms as she gripped the back of the not-Judoon's armor, dragging him across the floor as she made her way down the corridor as quickly as she could. Donna soon joined her, and they managed to slip into an airlock in time to avoid the unwanted attention of the guards coming around the corner.

The Doctor didn't want to give up the rifle when the pirate reached for it. "Stop and think. What is this going to solve? Killing him isn't going to help them." His brown eyes bored into her blue ones almost imploringly.

"I'm not going to kill him," she growled, yanking the weapon away from him forcefully. "We're just going to talk." She changed the intensity on the beam. "I want to know what Raxacoricofallapatorians are doing on this ship. I want to know why they're dressed up as intergalactic mercenaries. I want to know why there's nearly two hundred Ood and human children in the hold. And I want to know what the fuck I'm doing here." She glared at the Doctor, daring him to stop her. "And I don't have time to wait for him to wake up on his own."

Without another moment's hesitation, she shot the guard in the foot, pleased to see the creature open its eyes with a start.

"Hi," Cass smiled, not bothering to mask the cold edge to the expression. "Welcome back. You're going to answer our questions quickly and concisely – no bullshit pleading for your life or making excuses or stalling because you think help is on the way. It isn't, and if you're good I won't shoot you again. Also, you're not going to move from that spot, or I'll shoot you. You're not going to call for help, or I'll shoot you. And when I say 'I'll shoot you,' you should know that it'll be just enough power for it to hurt really really bad. If I decide to kill you, I'll just press this button over here and jettison you out into space. Do we understand each other?"

There was only a moment's pause. "Yes."

"Oh, you guys can talk. Great." Without taking her eyes off her new prisoner, she leaned threateningly against the wall, twisting the dial on the rifle up slowly and deliberately. "He's all yours, Doctor."

The Doctor looked like he was going to protest before Cass's glare was briefly redirected at him. He quickly decided it wasn't worth the effort and turned his attention back to the not-Judoon. "Alright then, let's start at the beginning then, shall we?" He smiled disarmingly and crouched down in front of the rhino, purposefully between the prisoner and the trigger-happy pirate behind him. As soon as she was sure she was out of sight, Cass sent a smirk at an uneasy Donna, who seemed to relax a little at the expression.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Clem-toc Blathereen."

"Oooh," he smiled. "Blathereen. I thought you lot disappeared ages ago when the Slitheen rose to power."

Clem-toc's grimace of disgust was not lost on Cass. The Slitheen and the Blathereen were notorious for not getting along. There'd been a feud between the two families for as long as she could remember – which was quite some time considering her own slightly-warped timestream. In this century, the Blathereen were the dominant criminal family of this section of the Raxas galaxy, if she remembered correctly. They had their hooks in all the major governments of the area – effectively making themselves an intergalactic mafia. It had been years since she'd had any dealings with them, but Raxacoricofallapatorians had always been known for their long memories, especially when it came to holding grudges.

"So Clem-to_c_, you're a long way from home – or anywhere, really. Where are we headed?"

"Don Gaxis has sent us coordinates for a rendevous point."

"And what exactly are you supposed to be doing at this rendevous point?" the Doctor prompted gently.

The slug hesitated. Cass cleared her throat loudly.

"The Don likes to inspect the shipments before they go to the markets."

"Shipments of what?" Donna put in. The Doctor watched the prisoner expectantly.

It was Cass who answered, her voice heavy with disgust. She'd heard rumors of a new black market after the rebellion on the Ood Sphere, but hadn't dared to believe them until now. Some things were beyond even her loose sense of morality. "Slaves," she explained simply. "They're driving the slave trade across the galaxy."

The Doctor's frown quickly turned into a scowl. "Slavery hasn't existed in this part of the universe in centuries, at least not on an interplanetary scale."

"Yeah, well nothing lasts forever." Cass couldn't quite stomach looking in the direction of their prisoner. "When Ood Operations went under in 4126, there was an economic crisis. Most people just accepted the loss – tried to work with the Ood to establish an equal society. Recently, though, there've been rumors of big corporations who're still using slave labor to stay in business. Nothing real solid, though. Apparently the investigators keep going missing or lose interest. My guess? Blathereen assassinations and bribes. Universe keeps spinning, no one the wiser, while these slugs rake in the credits."

There was a long moment of silence in the room as the information sunk in. The pieces were beginning to come together for Cass. No one wants to deal with a Judoon ship unless they have to, which means that's the best possible disguise for a bunch of skin-stealing slugs trafficking in illegal cargo. It was so obvious, she wondered how she hadn't thought of it before. Of course, there was one piece she couldn't seem to fit in – why kidnap her? If anything, her disappearance would have drawn attention to the ship, provided anyone in the proverbial gutter she'd been pulled from was brave enough to alert the authorities. Still, she had a few friends who might miss her enough to go looking.

The pirate risked a glance at Donna's horrified expression. The woman looked close to tears.

"Doctor - " she started, hands clenched at her sides.

"Don't, Donna. Don't even start." A muscle in his jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth. "What's happening here is not our fault. What we did was _right_."

She looked back at her friend with steel in her eyes. "We've got to fix this."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to ****Mlle. Phoenix Fox, .923519, Dalonega Noquisi, and for the reviews! **

**Sorry for the late update. I'm still having trouble believing how my week has gone, so I won't inflict a description of it on the rest of you. Hopefully this lives up to some of the wait, though. **

**I promise not to make you wait quite so long for the next one.**

**As always, your feedback helps me make the story better for you. Also, it makes my day and gives me warm fuzzies. So, please review. :)**

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**Chapter Three: A Damper on Our Relationship**

There was something of a pregnant silence as the trio crept through the nearly-deserted corridors towards the cargo bay, having left a now-unconscious Clem-toc behind in a janitorial closet. The ship hummed steadily around them – a quiet, soothing sound that did little to still their raging thoughts.

Donna, mainly, was doing her best to absolve herself to some degree of the overwhelming guilt threatening to crush her. There was no doubt in her mind that assisting in the Ood rebellion had been the right thing to do. Yet she couldn't help but wonder if there had been something they'd missed – something else they could have done to prevent this.

Naturally, the answer was no, which was the conclusion Cass was struggling to come to after learning of the pair's involvement at the Ood Sphere. The "Friends of the Ood," as the once-underground freedom fighters called themselves, had done a spectacular job at publicizing the rebellion. There was hardly a civilized planet in the known universe that hadn't been exposed to video feed from the battle, grotesque images of captive-Ood living conditions, and Ood Sigma's hour-long interview with some famous reporter or other explaining in full how things were going to work from here on out. The backworlds and outer systems, however, were an entirely different story. There were hundreds of planets under the control of gangsters like the Blathereen – planets outside of the famed Shadow Proclamation's jurisdiction and control. Those were the kinds of worlds Cass had frequented most over her long years of adventure and travel. There, the only rules were those you made yourself – and the most common punishment was a toss up between a knife in the back or a long, slow freeze drifting out into space. But as much as Cass tried to remind herself that the Blathereen's new money-making scheme probably would have cropped up regardless of the Doctor's and Donna's little adventure – after all, they'd been trafficking in human stock for quite some time – she couldn't seem to quite put out the simmering anger rushing through her veins at her newly gained knowledge.

The firm look on Cass's face and the steely glint to her gaze as she led the way, stopping occasionally to hide from the few patrolling Blathereen guards, weren't particularly doing her any favors in terms of the Doctor's slowly forming opinion of her. He rebelled at the knowledge that she was a pirate, making her living in blood and glory, stealing from rich and poor alike. His blood boiled as he wondered how many people had met their end at the end of that glittering cutlass swinging from her hip. How many credits had she stolen over the years, leaving desolation and destruction in her wake? She was little better than her gangster kidnappers, each of them earning wages off of the suffering of others.

But there was some small, less emotional and more instinctual corner of his brain that was intrigued more than offended by her. She'd thrown away Clem-toc's rifle the first chance she'd gotten, and, even if her hand strayed to the hilt of her sword every so often, she was yet to draw the weapon though she'd had plenty of opportunities to eliminate her unsuspecting enemies. He remembered that cold, quiet fury blazing in her eyes when she'd pulled up the feed from the security cameras. On top of that, there was that lingering question of why she'd bothered to come back for Donna and himself when she'd clearly already made a clean getaway some minutes before.

A pirate with a conscience. Yes, he was intrigued. But did he trust her?

She stopped in front of him so suddenly that he nearly collided with her even as Donna stumbled into him. Cass shot him a glare over her shoulder, her blue eyes glittering in the half-light of the corridor and her short dark hair curling around her face with the heat the Doctor hadn't noticed.

Nope. Not a bit.

"Why are we stopping?" Donna hissed, not particularly quietly.

Cass put a finger to her lips in warning.

"Wait, no," the Doctor frowned. "You can't do that – it's my line."

"Will you shut up?" the pirate shot back under her breath.

"Not typically, no," Donna smirked.

"Well, while you're figuring out how the off button on your mouths work, we're going to have to find another way around. This way's blocked." She glanced anxiously around the corner. "Apparently the slugs like playing poker in the hallways."

"That's going to be a problem," the Doctor said thoughtfully, hoping he wasn't remembering the layout of the ship correctly.

"For you two? Yeah. No kidding."

"Oi – watch it, spacegirl."

Cass ignored her in favor of thinking out loud, an edge of tension to her quiet voice. "Option one, we try and take out the six heavily-armed, but hopefully oblivious, Blathereen down the hall from here."

"I'll vote no," Donna mused.

"Agreed," the Doctor frowned. "Option two, we could turn around and try the route around the other side, which - "

"Takes us right past the Bridge," Cass finished. "Not really feeling like that's the best idea. Three, we could try and take the lift down to the next level, thereby alerting that same Bridge – which I would suggest we avoid."

"Four," the Doctor said, somewhat less than hopefully, "we could show up in the command bridge and talk them into releasing all prisoners on the ship."

"Yeah, 'cause that turned out really well last time." Cass raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm pretty sure the Blathereen don't share your apparent love for diplomatic solutions. Four, you two mosey on back up the way we came and leave me to crawl through the air shaft down to the cargo bay. Not really helpful, seeing as then I'm just stuck there with everyone else. Whatever we do, we've still gotta get all of them off the ship before dealing with the slugs. Otherwise we'll be setting ourselves up for a hostage situation."

"I don't really like any of those options." The Doctor was frowning thoughtfully.

"Got a better idea, _Doctor?_ I'm all for better ideas." It took her a moment to notice Donna's smug smirk, as if the woman were waiting bemusedly for them to stop thinking long enough for her to say something important.

"_Or_," the temp smiled, rightfully pleased with herself, "we could take advantage of the fact that we've got a bigger-on-the-inside spaceship not to far away that we _could_ use to take a short cut down to the cargo bay. You'll notice that this also provides us with a convenient escape route once we're finished _and_ avoids any unnecessary contact with potentially-hostile aliens roaming around.."

Cass blinked, trying to comprehend. "It does that?"

The Doctor ignored her. "Donna, that's brilliant," he grinned widely.

"Course it is," the woman grinned back.

There was something about that exchange that sent some rarely experienced emotion coursing full speed through Cass's system. Upon brief consideration, she realized it was something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike apprehension. She wouldn't go as far as to say she was particularly confident in what was going on – far from it, actually – but she didn't feel the need to run while she still had the chance.

Before she could form any kind of question about what exactly they were about to do, the Doctor had set off at a run back down the hallway, pulling both Cass and Donna along by the hand. "Allons-y!"

* * *

The impossible box was slowly giving Cass another headache. She'd never thought of herself as being particularly dull – after all, she'd successfully adjusted to semi-permanent life in three separate centuries, each of them over 1000 years apart from each other, without any formal education to speak of. Ignorant of a lot of things, perhaps, but never dull. She could put pieces together as quickly as anyone. But the conundrum presented by the bigger-on-the-inside spaceship she was currently standing in was enough to make her seriously reconsider her opinion of her own intelligence. There was obviously something here she was missing in a very bigger-on-the-inside kind of way.

She liked it better when she thought she'd been hallucinating.

"- pop away back to the Ood Sphere. And on to the next adventure. Oh, and we'll need to - " The Doctor paused suddenly in the middle of adjusting something on the center console, eyebrows knitting together in mild frustration as he regarded Cass. "Is she even listening to me?"

"Sorry, what?" the pirate said, realizing suddenly that she'd been studying the bronze walls for a few minutes now.

"That would be a 'no,' then." Donna smirked. Cass noticed that she seemed to do a lot of that.

The Doctor looked rather put-out. "Honestly, why do I bother?"

"Was it important?"

"To save time, you should assume everything that comes out of my mouth is important."

"That's gotta make life really difficult when you're sick. I don't even really want to think about that. Anyway – there was something important?"

Donna filled her in. "Pop in, grab the Ood and kids, pop them all back home. Deal with the Rax – rax- raxa - "

"Raxacoricofallapatorians," the Doctor finished, to Donna's mild disappointment. "Don't worry, you'll get it. Just takes practice."

Cass raised an eyebrow. "We're going to fly your ship down to the cargo level without running into anybody, park it down there without accidentally squashing any unsuspecting prisoners, then fly off without any resistance whatsoever – saving the day and leaving the Blathereen completely oblivious to the fact they've been robbed blind?"

"Well, almost. I'm still debating on the 'we' bit. Me and Donna, yeah. That's a given. But _you_," that intense look was back in his dark eyes, "I'm not so sure of."

"Oh, really? And when were you planning on telling me that?"

"Now, more or less."

"So not helpful."

"Why are you here?"

"Good question."

"That's not an answer."

"Sure it is. It's just not the one you want."

"What do the Blathereen want with you?"

"No idea. It's the pirate part that's got you hung up, isn't it?"

"It does put something of a damper on our relationship, yes. A bit hard to trust someone who makes a living on people not trusting them."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. Still, there's no reason we can't get along."

"I'm not so sure."

"I could have left you there in the cells. I could have grabbed myself an escape pod and been on my way to the next star system by now. I didn't."

"One act of conscience doesn't - "

"You know what?" the pirate interrupted, temper rising. "I don't have to explain myself to you. Trust me or don't, that's your problem. My problems – all two hundred of them - are sitting in a dark containment unit three levels down from here, and then in a command bridge one level up. I've already got a conscience, I don't need you sitting on my shoulder in judgment on top of that. So make a decision and get the fuck over it."

He seemed to consider that for a few moments before abruptly making up his mind with a shrug. With a careless "okay," tossed over his shoulder, he strode to the doors and flung them open, casting the light of the TARDIS on the faces of too many slaves to count.

Cass tried her best not to let her mouth hang open. "When did we move?" she asked no one in particular.

"A while ago," Donna answered with a smile.

"So he had already - " she paused and frowned a little, her shoulders sagging in realization. "He just wanted to see how I'd react, didn't he," she accused.

"Pretty much, yeah. He does that."

The Doctor was smirking smugly at her from his place near the door as he ushered in their passengers, their manacles being unlocked one by one by means of the small sonic device in the man's hand. Cass once again got the feeling that she was missing some vitally important piece of this puzzle, and she had no idea what it was. Mostly she had the distinct impression that she'd been out-clevered.

* * *

Donna found herself sitting not-quite-comfortably on the floor of the console room, a small pile of children slowly falling asleep across her lap. She was still puzzling over what they could do about stopping the slave trade they'd discovered this afternoon. Sure, saving over two hundred people was nothing to slouch at – but for all she knew they hadn't even made a dent in the problem. And what she'd seen today could not be allowed to continue.

If she'd been appalled by the living conditions of the Ood on their home world, she didn't know if there was a word to describe how she felt about the circumstances of the ones still filing slowly into the TARDIS. Their second brains had been removed, yes, but hacked off instead of surgically removed. Many of them still had scarred, pink cords hanging down their chests, and not a single one of them had translator spheres to bridge the gap. Aside from kind looks and hand motions, they were completely unable to communicate with the children they were gently settling in around the room.

"Excuse me." A quiet voice interrupted her thoughts, the source of it curled up against her side and looking across the room with eyes full of awe. It occurred to Donna that he wasn't looking at the room itself, as most people would do when confronted with the miracle that was the Doctor's ship. A child's imagination was more than capable of accepting impossibilities. Instead, the young boy – not more than five years of age – had his gaze fixed on something much more common place.

"Yes love?" the temp prompted gently.

"That's Cassidy Jennings, isn't it." It wasn't a question, and Donna wondered how in God's name the boy could possibly know anything about the pirate who'd only recently contributed to saving his future.

"You know her?"

"I'd saw her once back home," he explained, never once looking away from the target of his admiration.

Donna listened carefully as the child told his story, taking the simplistic account with a grain of salt. Still, the tale made her took a long, thoughtful look at the woman leaning against the center console, those deep blue eyes peeking watchfully out from under coal dust hair. Her arms were crossed loosely over her chest, dirt smudges across her pale face. Beyond the roguish set to her shoulders and carelessly crossed ankles, Donna thought she could see a little of the hero this child was making her out to be. It was buried deep, to be sure – but there was little something of a selfless wonder in that smirk of hers that the temp liked.

Right then and there, she made a decision – one the Doctor wasn't likely to appreciate very much quite yet. Of course, the Time Lord hadn't brought her along to agree with him all the time, now had he?


End file.
